A Love To Last Past Saturday Night
by sherrybaby
Summary: What happens when a girl who doesn't believe in love meets a boy who writes love songs for a living? OCxBob
1. Prologue

Growing up, I never exactly believed in love. I didn't really have an example, raised by a single mother with a new boyfriend a week. I knew that wasn't normal, and it's certainly not something I would have chosen for myself. So, I immersed myself in my studies and extra-curriculars and hobbies. I wasn't a straight-a student with a perfect record by any means, and I wasn't a dateless virgin either. I made decent enough grades to get myself into a university, and found time on the weekends to have a little fun.

At 15 I had my first sexual encounter. Nothing more than a few of uncomfortable- but not exactly painful- minutes in a cramped bed that he most certainly enjoyed more than I did. I lay there, freezing as he hogged the sheets, not exactly regretting it, but knowing this was not the person I would wake up to every morning for the rest of my life.

When I was 16, my mom announced that she was getting married at thanksgiving. She and her soon-to-be husband beamed at me, chattering excitedly about the new life they'd have, while the wine sloshed to and fro in their glasses. I mustered a small smile and extended my congratulations around my mouthful of food. Her teeth seemed too shiny. He didn't know her well enough to realize that her eyes only gleamed with greediness, and not love. His adoring eyes almost made me sick. _She's using you!_ I wanted to scream. If this is what's passing as love, I didn't want any part of it.

This was her fourth engagement in as many years, and the men kept getting younger- and richer. She had only been married once, to my father; she never actually made it down the aisle the other times. There was always some conveniently huge blowout in the weeks leading up to the wedding. I had a sneaking suspicion that she did it on purpose; she loved attention and knew that when the ceremony was over, the papers signed and a ring on her finger, that it would all disappear. See, my mother had only been married to my father a short time- alcohol and a two ton vehicle sent him to an early grave. She never fully experienced married life, but the little she had swore her off it forever. Of course, she didn't want the men to know that, lest they stop showering her with lavish gifts. So she sucked their bank accounts dry, started up a huge fight, usually along the lines of the men cheating, even when she knew damn well they weren't, and left.

The following years were spent exploring and getting to know myself and my sexuality. I was definitely into men, but still wasn't sold on the entire love thing. I was happy in my career, and I had a modest one-bedroom apartment in the city that I shared with my loyal four-legged companion, Moose. My friends got married and had children and moved into big houses with sprawling backyards and donned aprons and oven mitts, while I wielded a pen and ink, and the occasional martini.

A smart, vivacious blonde girl like me should've had men lining up, everyone said. Family members were shocked I wasn't baring children yet, a stay-at-home mother whose only job was to wait on her children and husband, hand and foot. I knew I didn't want to become a joyless robot and I certainly didn't want to be my mother. As the years went by however, I wondered if deep down inside, all my romantic life would consist of was casually dating, occasionally hooking up, maybe meeting the folks out of pity rather than want.

Then, at 21, I met him.


	2. Theme For A Dream

Sorry I've been MIA. I had writer's block and am dealing with a possible promotion at work! Here's (hopefully) the chapter you've been waiting for- the meeting!

Title credit: Theme For A Dream by Cliff Richard

* * *

><p>I was working at a diner part time, while trying to write my novel on my time off. The hours stunk, the seafoam green uniform was itchy and I was never without a headache by the end of the day. It wasn't the greatest gig but it helped pay the bills.<p>

The bell above the door rang, indicating a customer. I quickly tossed the rag I was wiping a table with, and grabbed my notepad and pencil, making my way over to the four boys in the booth. I sighed wearily, as groups of boys tended to be rowdy, and I certainly wasn't in the mood for smart remarks and innuendo.

"Welcome to Gary's Diner, what can I get you guys to drink?"

"Beer," a dark haired boy with a cheeky smile jeered.

"We don't serve that here." I gave him a pointed look.

"I'll have a soda," the tallest of the four said. The first boy murmured in agreement.

"Water for me," spoke a boy with almost blindingly white teeth and a beautiful voice.

"Same here," the fourth quietly replied. I looked at the speaker and it felt like time stood still. I forgot where I was. I just knew I wanted to get lost in his eyes forever. _What could be_ quickly flashed before my eyes. In an instant, I saw us going on a date, having our first kiss, spending the night together, becoming an inseparable pair: Elizabeth-and-boy-in-diner; one entity instead of apart. The proposal, the wedding, the children- a boy and a girl, being old and gray, holding hands and walking along the beach as the sun set. Happily ever after. I saw it all, and I wanted it. I craved it. I was terrified.

The sound of my pencil hitting the floor shook me out of my reverie and I scrambled to pick it up. Only the boy had leaned down as well. My face flushed as our hands touched. He held the pencil out to me and I, embarrassedly, snatched it out of his hand. Pushing my dirty blonde hair out of my face, I shoved the pencil behind my ear and excused myself to get their drinks.

"I think she likes you, Bobby," one of them- the boy with the nice voice- said. I was surprised I even recognized it was him, but I'd never heard a voice that sounded so musical. It was lovely. His comment made my face turn redder.

"You're gonna flood the place!" A voice next to me ear made me jump. I was so focused on their conversation, and the boy- Bobby's?- response I hadn't noticed the soda was overflowing.

"What's got you in a twist?" My coworker Shanna asked me.

"Shanna! Do me a huge favor, please take that table for me," I begged.

"Hell no, they look like shitty tippers. Why?" I related the story to her, leaving out exactly what the day-dreaming entailed.

"Okay. Definitely not. You're keeping the table, and getting his number."

"I can't! I'm not looking for anything!"

"He could be _the one_." Shanna was very big on the concept of "the one," but she was also very picky. She had a list of qualities she did and didn't want in a man. She thought she had found him a year back, but one night she came home to an empty house. He had taken his clothes, most of hers, and the pool boy.

I rolled my eyes and carried the drinks back to the table. After taking their order, I went on break. Normally during these times, I would sit out back and try to work on my novel, but after a few minutes of wracking my brain to finish a scene I was stuck on, I gave up. Shoving my notepad back into my bag, I lit a cigarette and let my mind wander, back into the daydream about the boy inside the diner.

I wondered what he did for work, where we would live, if I could quit this crummy job and write for a living. I hoped they would be gone when I got back inside. The door swung open as Shanna exited with a lit cigarette in hand.

"Break's over, kid." I stubbed my cigarette out under my shoe and pushed away my silly thoughts. Daydreaming like that was unusual for me, even when I knew and was interested in the person. I never thought of old boyfriends like that, so I couldn't understand this fascination I had with this someone who probably thought I called the loony bin home. I had friends who would meet someone and talk bout love at first sight, how they couldn't believe they had gone so long without this person around. I never bought into that. But maybe…

"Lover boy's still inside," she called over her shoulder. I closed my eyes and shook my head, bracing myself for the awkwardness I was sure would be waiting for me. I could hear them talking about music; it seemed as if they were a group. Well, that answered my question of his career. It's not very steady, but who was I to judge? I was a writer.

"Hey baby," the dark haired boy leered at me as I made my way over with the check.

"My name's not 'Baby.'"

He started to say something else but the taller boy's elbow slammed into his ribs. I mentally thanked my savior.

I placed the check in the middle of the table, and snuck a glance at the quiet boy. He was looking down, determinedly picking at the cracked dark green booth seat. His neck was steadily turning red.

"Thank you, Elizabeth!" the fourth boy read off my name tag, smiling widely. He nudged the boy beside him, who somehow turned even redder.

"Thank you," he looked at me then looked away, a small smile tugging at his lips, and my heartstrings.

"I'm Frankie," he offered his hand. I apprehensively took his hand in mine.

"This is Bobby," he indicated the boy beside him. "That's Nick, and the loudmouth is Tommy."

Nick gave me a wave and Tommy winked at me. I could feel my skin crawling.

"Alright, well you guys can pay when you're ready. Have a good afternoon."

They took their time leaving, and I took my time cleaning already clean tables on the other side of the room.

"Goodbye, Elizabeth!" Nick yelled. As they made their way out the door, I heard someone giggling. I nodded my head and breathed a sigh of relief when they were out of sight. I went to clear the table when I noticed a piece of paper held in place by a plate where Frankie had been sitting. On it was an address to a small club with the message

"The Four Lovers- Come see us tomorrow night!"

I crumpled the paper up, fully intending on throwing it away. Something stopped me, however. A subtle curiosity, a sudden thrill at seeing Bobby again. At home, I placed it on my bedside table, shooting glances at it the rest of the night, gnawing on my nails as I did when I was nervous, wondering what I was getting myself into.


	3. Crimson & Clover

p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"A/N: Still don't own these guys, or their story. Title Credit: Crimson Clover by Tommy James and The Shondells/p  
>hr style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;" noshade="noshade" size="1"   
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I threw yet another dress down on the floor, sighing dramatically.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""I'm not going."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Shut up. That's the fourth time you've said that."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Well I'm serious now."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Like you were serious the last two times?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Really!" I stomped my foot like a petulant child. "I have nothing to wear and why do I even care about this? I don't know these boys, I can't believe I'm even entertaining the idea of going!"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""The one," Shanna reminded me.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Get real. I've never been this invested in someone I don't know. I'm being insane! This isn't normal!" I sat down on my bed, feeling more foolish than ever, shaking my head.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Sweetie, when was the last time you did something for yourself?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""I don't know… a year ago?" I shrugged.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"Shanna sat down beside me. "You owe it to yourself to go out and have some fun. You're always working, either at the diner, or on that book. Look at it this way, it'll be a fun night of dancing, and you won't even have to talk to them if you don't want. But you do need to get out of this house. It smells musty."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I sighed for the millionth time and scrounged around in my closet some more. "Fine, just help me look presentable."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"A half hour later, Shanna put the finishing touches on my make-up and led me to the mirror. I didn't want to look like I was trying to impress anyone, but I wanted to look nice, and she definitely succeeded. I was wearing a deep red swing dress with a black sash around the waist, along with black heels. My hair was put in an up-do, and all of the fly-aways were slicked down. A touch of rouge adorned the apples of my cheeks, and my eyeliner swooped out from the corner of my eyes slightly. The lids had a very slight smoky effect, just enough to make my blue eyes pop. As I looked at myself, Shanna clasped a single strand of pearls around my neck.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""There. I think you're ready."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Thank you." I grabbed my bag and we headed for the door. I gave her a quick hug before we went our separate ways.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Knock 'em dead," she grinned. "And get Tommy's number for me!"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I had passed the club many times before but had never been inside. I wasn't expecting much, and my expectations were met. The room was dark and smoky, booths lined the walls, and tables were pushed back slightly as if to form a dance floor. But it was packed.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""emIs this all for The Four Lovers?" emI wondered./p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I ordered my first drink of the night and picked a table somewhere in the middle of the crowd, where I was sure I wouldn't be seen. Not long after, the boys took the stage.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""emI can't give you anything but love, babybr That's the only thing I've plenty of, babybr /Dream awhile scheme a while, we're sure to findbr /Happiness and I guess, all those things you've always pined for"/em/p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I felt my jaw drop slightly. They were incredible, emFrankie emwas incredible. As the song came to a close, his lingering falsetto sent shivers down my spine. The band kicked right into another cover with some of the crowd moving onto the dance floor. This cover was even better; Frankie flashing those pearly whites at the adoring audience every chance he got. I even found myself grinning and swaying along to the beat, and couldn't help but notice how entrancing the music seemed, flowing through the guitars and speakers and amps and microphones and keys and taking a life of its own./p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"They played a total of five songs, each more captivating than the last. The crowd ate up every story they told, every ounce of banter the boy produced. They worked like a well-oiled machine.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"em"They were going to be huge," emI thought. "em…if they ever get out of this bar."/em/p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"After the show, as the next band loaded their gear on stage, I stopped at the bar for a second drink when I saw a familiar face to my left.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Hey! Waitress!"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""It's Elizabeth. Timmy, right?" I asked innocently.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Tommy." His eyes glittered for a minute (emdangerously? emI couldn't tell) before he stuck out his hand. "The boys are over here."/p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Oh, I'm just-"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Just here to see Bobby, right? How'd you like the show?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""No. I like to come here sometime. I like the drinks. The show was great."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Bullshit, no one likes these over-priced, watered down cocktails."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""I do," I said stubbornly.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""So you mean to tell me you got all dolled up, drove out here, the night you knew we were playing, just for a shit drink?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Yes!"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Sure, broad. Look, the guys are expecting you." With that, he took my hand and led me over to them.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"The three guys greeted me nicely enough, with little quips about how great I looked, even after I had almost tripped over myself with excitement to explain how wonderful I thought they had been. Frankie and Nick were a little preoccupied with the gorgeous leggy women draped on their arms, but I didn't mind. I sat quietly and sipped on my drink, replying when I was asked something, content to keep to myself. However, Frankie and Tommy, the electric duo they were, dragged me into the conversation. A couple of rounds later and I found myself in a heated debate with Nick about the artistic merits of Rear Window, and whether Alfred Hitchcock would be praised as a great director or go down as "a hack."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I sat back and observed the boys and their women, how sure and confident they were of themselves. Something drew me to the group, that's for sure. I didn't believe in any fairytale fate nonsense or that somehow our souls were intertwined, but I had the nagging feeling that this was right where I was supposed to be at this exact moment. I felt welcomed, like I belonged. I felt home.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"We took the party to the bar, and sometime later, I made my way over to the stage, where I saw Bobby quietly plucking away on the piano. We hadn't even noticed he'd left, but it hadn't been very long. I stood there for a couple of minutes, just listening. It seemed disorganized at first but as I listened, I picked out a few notes here and there that tied it all together. Soon, it flowed beautifully as his fingers danced their way across the keys. I was mesmerized.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Hey," I said when I was a few feet away.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Hey yourself," he smiled. I saw a faint tinge of pink adorn his cheeks. I felt nervous too; we barely talked all night.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Are you working on a song?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Not really, just messing around."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Well, it sounds nice."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Do you play an instrument?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""No. I tried piano and guitar when I was younger but didn't have the patience to stick with it."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"He patted the seat next to him.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""I'll teach you if you want."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Oh, I don't know. It would take years," I joked.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""I've got time." He said sheepishly, and it was my turn to blush.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"He nodded at my hands. "You've got nice long fingers; perfect for instruments.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""That's what my grandmother would say when she would try to teach me to play."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""She was right!"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Well, what do you suggest for a beginner?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Hmm... Twinkle Twinkle Little Star?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"I smiled at that.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Deal."p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;"Three songs and one more glass of wine later, and we were standing a few feet away from everyone else, getting ready to head our separate ways.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""The guys were right, you know," he said handing me my coat at the door.p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""About what?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""You emdoem look great. Really. I could barely keep my eyes off of you at the table."/p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""Hush," I waved my hand as if to clear the air of his words, "you look way better. Makes a girl wonder if you would maybe like to accompany her to see The Blob tomorrow night?"p  
>p style="font-size: 11.8181819915771px;""I'd be honored." He pulled me into a hug that lasted just a second longer than a friendly one should have. I was walking on air, and had a strong suspicion he felt the exact same way.p 


End file.
